Lord Bee Beard!!

And here, for Friday enjoyment, is a man with a beard and helmet of bees! HURRAH!!

Un bon weekend pour tout!

ps

That was called 'fat day' cause today I had a massive fat day and spent all day standing strategically behind things and wrapping a scarf up to my nose so I could pretend I was invisible. I rewarded this with cake from Carluccio's for lunch. You know how it is. 

Fat day.

Didn't write a blog today. now it's too late... so here's a token blog just to keep up the 'writing one every day' thingy. 

Once again had such a myriad of strange dreams that i felt uneasy all day. Much of my dream was spent in a giant second hand shop, full of really sad, nostalgic stuff and also really amazing cheap clothes. This is a frequent theme in my dreams. Probably last night it was because me and mum watched a programme about the ways that layydees in the war got around clothes rationing by making outfits from old sheets and stuff.... one misguided suggestion showed a lady make a swimsuit from 'Nine white facecloths, complete with pocket for dry biscuit' (??!!!) It made us laugh a lot, her complete arse cheeks were hanging out of the bottom! Not to mention the thought of it actually getting wet!! it was almost see-through anyway, and completely baggy! she'd have more to worry about than keeping her biscuit dry i tell thee!! crazy days! 

Mum, dad and i are now completely engrossed in our latest series, "Jewel in the Crown"-set in India during the war and the fall of the Empire. but I'm sure there'll be more on that later (I know, I know, but it sounds so exciting, well it IS, so you should be holding your breath until then...)

I also dreamt, in what I am pretty sure was my first ever 'space' dream that I was released into space while hiding in a space capsule from an evil robot (yes, that's the technological stage that my brain has advanced to, 1950's sci-fi has just suddenly entered my subconscious). It was really relaxing floating through space. I think it shows the profound effect that wall-E has had on me. 

Lovely wall-E.

Sir Nicholas Winton.

This is Sir Nicholas Winton, the man who almost single-handed organized kindertransport for 699 Czech Jewish children from Prague to Britain in 1939. Last night I was lucky enough to see him speak about this at the Guildhall for Holocaust Memorial day, although he did point out that he objected to the name and would prefer Holocausts, to recognise the many number of genocides that have taken place, as well as the genocide in Nazi Germany.

Nicholas Winton turns 100 this year, no one even knew about his efforts to save these children until his wife found letters and documents from them, more than 50 years after the war.

Listening to him speak was genuinely inspiring, and emotional, he accredited his left-wing politics, and those of his parents, with his inability to ignore what was going on in Europe, as he felt the government were. Like all people who do things such as these, he felt it was nothing more than a natural human response to people who needed help.

There was an excellent Yiddish choir singing songs of the ghetto, which was very moving, the songs were ironically jolly, an amazing thought, that in the depths of despair humans cling on to irony.

There were some small pale children singing an unitelligable song about friendship whilst performing bizarre hand actions that made me stifle giggles, and some pretty dire stage school children doing a play about conflict.... but Netherhall proved their strengths as a multi background school by doing a really good presentation, which made me feel weirdly proud (?!).

Woke up and had some munchers while watching the beginning of Quincy today as I was in late, at 11. Felt so strongly the annoyance (i put 'pain' there and realised, after what i have been speaking of previously, that made me a dick)of no longer being a student. It's funny how quickly you settle into a routine of Mon-Fri working. When I was a student, if I had to go to the doctor at 9, then come home at 9:10 and go back to bed, I would consider this a major imposition on my empty day! Now, I book two days off , and wait 2 months for them, like a diamond on the horizon. Not that my life's hard, it isn't. Just that you can't ever imagine something the second you no longer do it.
For example, i always had an idea that if doctors could invent a pill that mimicked a hangover in your body, for 5 or 10 minutes, it would massively reduce the amount you drank, cause it's impossible to imagine how they feel when you aren't having one.

oh my god. what a load of obvious and boring observations.

Anyway, back to Quincy quickly before I go, and I'm addressing this to Chloe and Lally mainly,
what happens in this episode, i really must know!! this is what i saw:

A woman is telling her dog 'hee hee, this is gonna be the shortest walk of your life', ( it became apparent later that she has maybe agoraphobia?) she tentatively takes her german shepherd onto the beach for a walk, ( she is no more than twice the height of the dog, maybe this is why it was the SHORTest walk of its life HAHAHA, no i only noticed how short she was cause you never see short women on american telly) it's the same beach where Dr Sloane lives in Diagnosis I think? She IMMEDIATELY sees a man strangling a woman with her own necklace in the vast window of the house in front of her (this I am SURE is DR Sloane's house), looks the killer in the eyeballs and runs away.
CUT to Quincy M.E. in the lab with Sam Fujiyama and Detective Frank, having a laugh about the 'poker game of the century' that they are about to have, Quincy's saying he has his lucky shirt on, 'you said that about the last one, until you lost it in a poker game!!!!!!' jokes Frank!!!
SUDDENLY, the phone goes, uh-oh, it's for you frank, Frank's off, CUT to the man who lives in the big-window house, protesting his innocence, 'i was watching tv all day, i only got up to go to the bathroom'. They all notice that the TV faces the window, that nervous cow must just have seen a murder on tv they conclude!
Frank's idea is excellent, the witness, he's informed, is too scared to leave her house, you know, being that she's agoraphobic and all, and that the first time she dared leave her house she witnessed a murder. So Frank decides to stop all the messing about and take the accused man to her HOUSE, cause that won't be at all traumatic, he mutters, 'i missed the poker game of the century for this?' (ie. for a woman seeing a murder on telly through a window, as Frank has very dramatically, and dangerously concluded).
CUT to the witness woman siiting on her sofa, 'how many glasses of wine did you have before your walk?' Frank asks, 'one.....no, it was two' the mad witness replies. Frank rolls his eyes, this mad bitch has wasted enough of his time, he marches in the accused man. 'It wasn't him, it was someone else, the woman was latino' says mad witness, all shaky and constantly being interrupted by a woman standing behind her and holding her hand, 'who's this?' says frank, 'I, am her therapist.' (?????!!!) states the woman.
Frank's knows that he's not only up against two women, but two mental hippies, pissed up on wine, and probably lesbians. that's what he's thinking.
'Continue to investigate' commands the therapist, while the witness shakes about on the sofa clutching her hand. 'yeeeahh, yeahh' says frank, what a waste of his time.
after he leaves shaking witness screams 'maybe I am going MAAADD?' therapist lays a calming/restraining hand on her shoulder, 'you are not going mad.'

So, it seems hopeless!!!! i need to know how they catched the murderer?Why was he in the tall thick man's house murdering? and how didn't he notice??
and if the therapist was involved, she seemed a bit too clever for a woman. she must be a witch?
Quincy would never take her womanly nonsense, when did he get involved??he's been largely absent so far...

this has been very long, but i hope you'll agree, neccessary. i'm gonna leave work now cause there's no one in here!

the world is SO wrong.

This was on the floor looking up at me on the train to Wakey on Friday. Maybe it annoyed me more than usual due to my exhausted state and shitty day dealing with twats. no, probably not.

It reads:

'Top Ten Places to Work for Straight Men'

1. Hooters

2. Spearmint Rhino

3. Stella Artois

4. Nintendo

5. Zoo Magazine

6. Walkers Crisps

7. Virgin Atlantic

8. Tourism Queensland

...then it just stops (not sure if a person who can't count to ten, no matter how straight they are, would get a job at all).



It claims to rank 'workplaces where red-blooded, beer swilling, rootin' tootin', girl-loving guys want to work'.

Upon further inspection I discovered that this was in a trade magazine, all about Business Law.

This particular article was a reaction against a previous publication mentioned in a previous issue, of the top 100 places for gay people to be employed, it states the criteria for that survey as having been, 'implementation of effective equality policies' and 'practical demonstration of good practice in recruitment and mentoring', so slightly different from the things that they seem to have taken into account for their invented beer swilling, red-blooded equivalent.

So according to this survey, the MAIN, IDEAL, PERFECT job for straight men (not just any old straight men remember, there are criteria, you have to be PROPER) is working in Hooters.
well, we don't have hooters in the uk, there is a place in manchester called Teasers, I know cause i went in there on lightning's birthday. it was depressing, everyone in there was depressed. So if a man could make it to America, to work in Hooters, then there they would be eligible for employment either, I presume, on the door, behind the bar, or in the kitchen. Surely the readers of Business Magazine or whatever this is, could achieve this? I mean, if they truly are the red-blooded men they claim to be, who's main goal in life is to be around women in tight t-shirts, then all they need to do is get a bar job, it's not that hard. maybe they aren't man enough to follow their NUMBER ONE dream?
Spearmint Rhino, that's in the Uk, just go and get a job there? it's not exactly an impossible dream?serving lager, watching the men coming in, and going out, every, single, day. Going whhheeeeyy at the ladies, but obviously, not going near them, doing that ALL THE TIME, that is the best job in the world.
as for nintendo and stella, presumably, like the tit-related jobs, the red-blooded men presume that they would be allowed to simply look at tits/play computergames/drink beer, as a job.
Or is it merely enough to say 'i work at spearmint rhino' so all men you meet can go 'fucking hell! whheeyy you lucky bastard!' while you gaze past them, eyes dead, incapable of even looking women in the eye now you know what men are really, truly like. thinking of the mother that raised you, wishing you'd never read the top ten jobs list for red-blooded, beer swilling rootin' tootin' men and HAD to get one to prove that you were a man, drinking yourself to death, beer swilling until you can swill no more...
As for the virgin atlantic one, there is nothing even to say. it means nothing. even more than the others did, it means absolutely nothing. this was in a proper magazine, that people read? they printed it.

So anyway. Other news. I bought a new pair of headphones finally, and while trying to remove the space age fucking packaging, managed to cut both of the headphones clean off with some scissors.
off to a Holocaust Memorial service now, as it is Holocaust memorial day, swing by, look at the display I made, no one else has!

Brown-snout Spookfish

Wowee! a fish that even rivals the greatness of the piglet squid, namely, the Brown-snout Spookfish, or Barreleye!! 

Here for information i have attached a picture of a brooch-interpretation.

  These fish use teeny mirrors attached to their eyeballs so that they can see up and down at the same time!! brill. all the appropriate information can be seen here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/7815540.stm

I think that maybe deep-sea creatures are the greatest thing in the world. They are all SO amazing that when you see them or hear about them you don't know why people who know about them don't go on about them all the time!! it's like that Blue Planet episode where you see all of the creatures glowing up and spinning around (and looking like those 80's etch-a-sketch type things where you made lights come on by imprinting the board with little shapes) it was just inconceivable to me that people knew about this stuff and didn't proclaim it the most amazing news story ever!! they are probably the most hard to believe real things that there are, deep sea creatures, unicorns and enchanted creatures seem more likely.

  Isn't it amazing to imagine that they are all doing all that stuff, spinning around and lighting up and mirroring their eyes about all the time, right now, while you sit at work or go to the pub or whatever. 

There's something so cool and dignified about it all, it makes preeny humans seems so trite and bollocks.

bus BASTARD

shitting arse, what a bloody f ing day.
Dragged myself out of bed, despite the inhumane conditions resembling a wild-night-on-the-moors. nonetheless, i was quite chipper as i felt a day off had done my cold a world of good and was noticeably better than yesterday.
Mum and I headed off to get the bus at 830, running a little late, but, you know, it's friday... It was pissing it down and every vehicle that passed whooshed up loads of brown water from the road, still, keeping cheery, we had one another.
We saw two buses go by, only 5 mins to the hospital then a turn around, they could never be more than 10 minutes: the optimism.
After 20 minutes, we were pretty wet through, i had declined to open my umbrella on the grounds that it would be anoying when the bus arrived, and we wouldn't be there long. After half an hour, an umbrella would have been redundant anyway, our socks and pants and feet and hair and eyes were saturated and the coldness was eminating to the core of my being, erasing the day i had taken off and probably adding another 2 or 3 to my cold for good measure. Mum suggested getting a taxi, as it was gone 9, but having waited this long, i could not leave.
At 9:25 the bus rolled up, we made slight issue as to its late arrival, to which the driver impatiently said 'are you getting on or what?', after all, he was in a hurry, unlike us, whose need to hurry had long since departed, along with the two vanishing ghost buses that had passed in the other direction nearly an hour ago.
So. I did what i always do now that I am a grown up, and decided to complain. Especially after the driver stopped in town to use his mobile. The fury was all-encompassing.
I received a swift reply to my email from Ken at stagecoach telling me to tell him my complaint and he would try to deal with it. Try he did, poor Ken, his reply read like it was written by an ape in a man costume. He assured me they were trying to make the problem 'more easier' for people like me but that was the only bit of it that i understood. I matter-of-factly asked him to pass my email on as i could see it was futile to try and deal with Ken, and i felt cruel pitching myself against him in case i crushed him. Which i would.

Bus passengers are treated like scum in cambridge, people who can't afford a car and can't even be bothered to cycle, or even worse, are old AND poor, who gives a shit what happens to those giro bastards? They have no right to complain, even if it does cost £1.70 to drive them a mile at one mile an hour. They're LUCKY we even do this charitable rip-off service for them.
You don't feel like you're a paying customer, why should you feel blessed with LUCK cause a bus appears an hour late and lets you pay to get on?Fascists.it makes me want to be Primeminister stuff like this.

So. That's my day. Off to wakey later for the weekend. Not looking forward to getting the bus to the station. I am making a personal protest by refusing to say 'cheers!' as i get off the bus like a normally do. Ha! that'll show them. I was contemplating saying 'fuck off' as i dismounted earlier but decided it may lose me the upper hand in a fight to the death with stagecoach (which believe me, this is).
Funny, I had a dream where I was in a kind of Arctic tundra and was being harangued into conquering its terrain by some bunch of athletic bastards. How apt.

...

(that is, i hope Guantanamo closes soon, not i hope i can drink fine wines soon as it sounds...even though i obviously do hope that...but they'll def taste finer if it's closed).

gitmo

i don't want to count my chicklings and all that but i just saw that Obama has closed Guantanamo?! if i wasn't so f ing ill i'd be out the door and drinking fine wines. i hope this happens soon and doesn't drag on for years and years. it is potentially the best news since forever. 

day off.

 after a lot of debate i decided to take the day off as i was too out of it to go into work.  days off are shit when you're ill. i lay in bed looking around my room and thinking of all the things i need to do and want to do, but i'm paralysed by feeling shaky and shit so i just lay there feeling guilty. at least when you're ill at work you feel sorry for yourself and resentful, that's a much better feeling. 

  i just had  a mega bath, deciding that could be the productive thing that i do today. it was pretty sweet. it's funny how even having a bath makes you feel guilty nowadays, with all the  climate change misery ringing in your ears. baths are brilliant. they'll probably make houses without them from now on. 

  the other rubbish thing about feeling ill is that you think about stuff too much, even more than usual, and your poison-filled brain makes everything seem even more skewed. christ i can't wait until spring, i really am sick of january. 

i had a dream a couple of nights ago that i was in a house with Liv trying to do some work, then it got dark and rained and the front door flew open, outside were giant, oozing toadish creatures, we managed to slam the door before they got in but they hurled hundreds of normal sized frogs and toads in. It wasn't scary, it was like they always came at night when it rained but we weren't meant to see them, and that's why they got angry. like spirited away i guess. in fact that is obviously what my dream was. oh that's a relief. it was bothering me. 

well i've just checked and according to the reliable source of Bellaonline, leaping toads and frogs like the ones in my dream house mean that i leap from thing to thing and never finish anything. shit. 

apparently toads mainly mean unfortunate circumstances and  that i will play a part in the downfall of a friend... 

according to dream-interpretation.org if i am a woman and i dream of toads my good name may be questioned!! NOOOOO NOT MY GOOD NAME.....

anyway, it was def just spirited away. 

croaky and dazed.

 so this is my first blog and i suppose it's apt that i don't feel well enough to really write anything as it is always good to start in a disappointing and mediocre way.

 today my creepy crust cold continued, the second different strain in as many weeks. at the moment it's the completely dazed kind where i feel as though if anyone tapped me i'd keel over and sleep forever. surprisingly it seems to have mellowed my mood at work slightly because a) my voice has gone, so i can't engage in the dialogue that the kids usually insist on about their right to eat/shout in the library and b) my weakened state has increased my tolerance by slightly hazing out peripheral vision and low-level noise so my usual beaverish darting-eyed observation of the little bastards has all but disappeared. Or maybe it's all just because i'm so happy about Obama that the world seems like a new and more hopeful place. ? in which case maybe i'm not even ill and this is how i'll feel from now on?

  made a Burns night display with my day. Pointless as no one will look at it, as they never do any of my heart-rending and meaningful displays. invented a new tactic of pointing to people who are annoying me when marie comes out to observe why the whole room is going mental. this makes everyone shift in their chairs. makes me feel like a ten-year old grass. this f ing job! the things it's driven me to! now i've even broken the code of the schoolyard. tee hee. 

  came home and fell asleep. don't feel too great. may have to call in sick finally. contemplating a dippy egg for dinner for comfort factor. i feel like a victorian child all weak and not long for the world, if someone walks past i shall espy the candle light under the door and call for water and swoon and splutter and then sleep for a week with a 'fever' like in pride and prejudice except i got it from the number 2 bus, not from a sexy walk though the country in a storm, and i know which illness i'd prefer...

  promise to put interesting things in tomorrow. sorry!! but i vowed i would write it every day so i felt i couldn't shirk from day 1, as this would be too typical of my behaviour and make me feel more ill. tomorrow, film reviews!! hahaaaaa!! i can say what i like! thank f i got the young ones box set yesterday, that's just what my weakness calls for now...